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46: Chapter 15: Spring Plowing Ends 46: Chapter 15: Spring Plowing Ends Roman paused for a mont, surveying the small rchants who were gradually becoming stunned.

He frowned, “Did you all understand?”

“Yes, we understand!” Everyone nodded frantically, completely dazed by the unexpected windfall.

They had originally thought it was so bad news, like a task to run errands for the Lord.

But now it wasn’t just running errands; they had to run themselves ragged!

This was truly…

too exciting!

To put it simply, Roman had set them a target of 100,000 catties of grain; as long as they could et it, they would receive an inco of 5 Gold Coins.

And they didn’t have to take on any risks.

There were only five of them in total, which ant they could each get 1 Gold Coin on average.

By the All Gods!

One Gold Coin could buy two oxen for plowing!

Just a hard toil of a dozen days or so, and they could get two oxen!

Who wouldn’t be tempted?

Even if the target was tough, they had to bite through it!

If they were only purchasing wheat, it might be difficult.

After all, wheat was the highest quality grain.

But with the addition of other grains, vegetables, and miscellaneous cereals, there wouldn’t be any problem.

Therefore, the expressions of these five small rchants were sowhat ferocious, like they were roaring, with eyes turning red.

They had to achieve this target!

Roman turned to look at Moor, furrowing his brow and barking, “What a disgrace, stand up!”

Moor shakily got to his feet.

While Roman was speaking, he had thought that the young Lord was going to settle accounts with him, and his heart had nearly stopped.

Buying 100,000 catties of miscellaneous grains would cost about thirty to forty Gold Coins, which wouldn’t bankrupt him, but it was akin to a C-section.

It would surely hurt, but compared to the pain of losing one’s head, Moor felt he could endure this kind of flesh-carving suffering.

Roman said, “You’ll arrange this matter.

There can be inferior grain among the food, but the quantity of such inferior products can’t be too much, understand?”

“Understand, understand, understand!” Moor kept nodding, his handkerchief thoroughly soaked.

They were now buying last year’s stored grain, which might be subject to spoilage, worms, dampness, and other problems—he was being reminded to pay extra attention to not be swindled.

Roman dismissed them.

As an Agricultural Officer, Moor had been selling grain for years and certainly knew more about it than him.

This 100,000 catties of grain was only a temporary solution, which could probably last a month or two; they would need to continue buying grain afterward.

But they couldn’t keep bleeding the pig; they needed to find a stable source of inco as soon as possible.

By now, his family’s savings were nearly gone, so poor they were almost selling Rubies, and if things continued this way, he would have to pawn the Crack Armor Great Bow.

Without grain, he wouldn’t have the confidence to order others to do things according to his plans.

Roman thought for a mont, then continued to draw out the kitchen knife and chop vegetables and at.

The pace of sowing and fertilizing was faster than Roman had anticipated.

On the morning of the third day, the 21st day since Roman’s arrival here,

the seven or eight hundred farrs had finished their sowing and fertilizing tasks.

Looking at the vast, orderly ridges, the dark soil exuded a strong sense of beauty in its flatness and tidiness—the whole land seed to be brimming with imnse potential.

Almost all the farrs found it incredible.

This beautiful, fertile field—had they really cultivated it with their own hands?

In the past, even with backbreaking work, they could not have completed the cultivation of these two thousand acres in just a dozen days, let alone achieve such results.

Just changing the once-familiar labor pattern allowed them to achieve such a significant increase in efficiency, which left them feeling a special kind of shock.

Many farrs stole glances at the figure standing in the field.

With his hair draped over his shoulders and crimson eyes, he emotionlessly wielded the kitchen knife in his hand, continuously chopping onions and carrots into large pieces on the cutting board.

A frail girl stood by his side, helping him put the chopped vegetables into the pot, making a vegetable soup mixed with white flour.

Though two days had passed, they still felt uncomfortable.

Lord Matthew was actually cooking for them himself.

Each piece of at they ate was chopped by this venerable lord.

While Roman watched the panel continuously displaying the prompt “Cooking Experience 1.”

In this cold, rciless action of chopping,

Only the increase in experience points could bring him a hint of warmth.

After all, he had been chopping vegetables for two whole days, his heart as cold as his knife.

From morning to evening, his arms were numb, his knife was dull, and his sous-chef Bob watched with pain in his heart.

By now, he had only raised his cooking experience points to 30, but it was still far from enough to level up to Level 2 Cooking.

Compared to other skills, the rate of gaining cooking experience was already fast.

Maybe it was because this skill itself didn’t contain much technique, plus his efficiency was quick.

Innate Chef Holy Body!

Yet, the erging cooking experience was still not enough for Roman to challenge Green’s authority.

Because it was only basic culinary knowledge, without any superior cooking skills.

Roman could only hope that after reaching Level 2, he would be able to properly teach a lesson to Green, who looked down on his culinary arts.

“Lord.”

A voice ca from the side, and Roman followed the sound, seeing a sowhat dark-skinned young man standing with his hands on his waist, waiting respectfully for his response.

Balrog.

One of the seven Angel Envoys Roman initially drew.

But Balrog was just a One Star Angel Envoy with a plain 5E Attribute panel; only his Constitution was an E .

His skill wasn’t in combat either.

Balrog’s skill was called “Hardworking,” allowing him to increase work efficiency and reduce physical exertion during labor.

In Roman’s view, this skill was useless.

Even a more experienced farr would know this technique.

It ant that Balrog had no real potential for cultivation, and Roman had not sought him out.

Until the farrs’ uproar where he killed an old farr nad Matthew, did he find out that Matthew was Balrog’s father.

Having killed soone’s father…

Roman felt no guilt or unease about it.

He firmly appointed Balrog as the person in charge of these two thousand acres of land.

During the planting process, this dark-skinned young man also played a commanding role.

Roman said, “What’s the matter?”

After the death of his father, Balrog, too, could only suppress his grief and devote himself fully to the upcoming labor, and now he finally had so free ti.

He asked respectfully, “Lord, is the cultivation of this common land finished?”

Roman nodded, “Yes, this year’s spring ploughing is over.”

The young farr clearly did not understand him.

He said vaguely, “Then shall we start to break new ground?

The next few days are still suitable for Planting, and I think we still have ti to plant a few hundred more acres…”

Roman waited for him to finish, then responded with certainty, “I say!

This year’s spring ploughing is over!”

Balrog finally understood the aning of those words.

He was surprised; in his view, the season for sowing had not yet passed, and they shouldn’t stop.

He hoped to explain to Roman that by repeating the previous thod of deep tilling, sowing, and fertilizing, they could plant more grain crops.

Even if the overall yield was not as good as last year, no one should starve.

But Roman put a stop to his words with a hand on his shoulder.

“Shut up, I have more important things to do next.

You are the person in charge of these two thousand acres of land.

I will arrange for 100 farrs to take care of this land for you.

If that’s not enough manpower, I can still temporarily allocate more labor to you—but I won’t allow these people to be bound to this land for too long.

Don’t make the sa mistake as your father!”

Farming might put food on the table, but that’s all it could do.

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